


20th January 2019

by jennandblitz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Everyone lives, Fluff, Growing Old Together, M/M, Sort Of, They deserved better, inspired by the Super Moon, it was meant to be angsty but I couldn't do it, so you've got fluff instead, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 03:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: Remus and Sirius spend the full moons in abandoned, beautiful places nowadays.inspired by this beautifulphotograph, that I was shown by the wonderful pixelated. Because these two boys deserve happiness, okay!?





	20th January 2019

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixelated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelated/gifts).



“I’m so tired, Pads.”

Remus watched his husband from his vantage point leant against the pulpit, already exhausted.

Even at 59, Sirius still carried himself like the 19 year old Gryffindor Remus fell in love with. Even despite everything, the decades, that night in ’81 never far from either of their minds, the 12 years in Azkaban, the whole horror of the Veil that always stuck in the back of Remus’ throat whenever they had to step foot in the Ministry, he still looked like just the most dashing thing he had ever laid eyes on. True, his hair had been shot through with silver - not grey, silver - at the temples, but even that was distinguished.

If, on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago, someone would’ve told Remus that nearly five decades later, he would still wake up across from the black haired boy who had just barged into his train compartment demanding somewhere to hide the evidence of a prank, Remus would’ve laughed in their face. And yet here he was, watching Sirius throw up every ward in the book around the little chapel they called home that night.

It was rote now, pick the next abandoned yet beautiful place on the list, apparate there some time mid-afternoon, put up the disillusionment charms, the muggle repelling charms, the notice-me-not’s, then curl up under the blankets until the moon rose.

Sirius glanced over from the last charm. “I know, Moons, I know. I’ll be right here.”

Remus cracked a smile and gingerly pushed himself up into a seating position. The moon hadn’t even risen, and he was already feeling horrific. This one, apparently, was some kind of super, blood eclipse moon, or some other bullshit. Remus thought they were all stupid names anyway - all moons were bloody when you were a sodding werewolf, and the only moons that could really be called super were the ones where Superman was directly involved, which by his count, were zero.

Despite the stupid names, Remus still felt the tides in his bones, pulling at joints and muscles. “I know,” he croaked out. Ever since Sirius had gotten out of Mungo’s after the Veil, they hadn’t spent a single moon apart.

Sirius smiled, still utterly disarming even with the crows feet and the laughter lines. It made Remus’ heart feel as if it might burst right up out of his throat, fly over to Sirius and smack into his chest to try and bury itself where it belonged. He crossed over and knelt next to Remus, pushing tender fingers through the hair at his temple, grey curls all shining, catching the light like mercury. “You got the Wolfsbane?”

“Mhmm,” Remus hummed, leaning over to pull a charmed thermos out of the leather messenger bag at his side. He made no effort to hide the soft grunt of pain as he straightened back up, and Sirius was there with a hand on his elbow for support. “Don’t understand why we’re still using goblets when these things work just as well.” He gave a wry grin as Sirius took the thermos from him and twisted the cap off.

Years ago, when everything was still off between them, in the moments after it all, when Voldemort was defeated and Harry James Potter was the saviour of the wizarding world, Remus would’ve protested and undone the thermos himself, insistent despite the pain in his joints, the arthritis setting in his bones.

But now, after two decades of living in each other’s pockets, unwilling to put even a second between them, Remus just let Sirius undo the damn thermos without a word. At first, Remus was terrified he would lose Sirius again, to something, _anything_ , because that was just what he deserved, always the outcast, always punished for something out of his control, for being a werewolf, for loving who he loved. And, late at night, Sirius would say the same, body curled protectively around Remus’ in their tangled sheets, sweat-sheened skin pressed together, so terrified of losing Remus again, of saying something wrong, putting his damn foot in his mouth again. So wary of the world, distrustful, angry, hateful, until the fear of the war, of another fucking war, faded away.

But they hadn’t lost each other. It had been so long now that they had grown together, like two trees, roots twisting under the earth into shared stability, so entwined they were possible to separate. In conversation, it was always Remus-and-Sirius, or Sirius-and-Remus, or Padfoot-and-Moony, to Harry’s ever growing brood of second-generation Prongslet’s. It was always both of them, never without the other. If they were invited to dinner, one would assume the other was coming. If they needed to venture to Diagon Alley or into London, both of them shrugged their coats on even if it wasn’t strictly necessary. If he thought they were joined at the hip at school, Remus had another thing coming after the second war ended; he wasn’t entirely sure he could tell where he stopped and Sirius started.

“Rem, here.” Sirius sloshed the thermos under Remus’ nose and he took it, draining the contents in one fell swoop. Wolfsbane was a fantastic invention, but Merlin, it didn’t half taste disgusting.

Sirius shuffled and set his back against the pulpit. “One day, they’ll make it taste great, too, huh?”

“We can only hope.”

Remus lived for these quiet moments, the two of them, sequestered alone somewhere with just themselves for company. It was all Remus had ever needed, was Sirius. The whole world could implode around him, filter down to a single speck, as long as he had Sirius’ grey eyes, warm with love, staring back at him. Maybe it was his age, maybe it was his predilection for all things morbid, but Remus often thought how happy he would be to die at moments like this - Sirius’ head on his shoulder, strong fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh, humming something under his breath.

“Love you, Pads,” Remus murmured, burying his nose into the silky blackness of Sirius’ hair, strong with the rosemary shampoo Luna had given them years ago for Christmas, that he just kept buying.

“Love you more, Moons,” Sirius stifled a yawn and turned his head into Remus’ shoulder to muffle it, his hand still circling over Remus’ thigh.

“Merlin, we’re old, aren’t we?” Remus looked away to prevent his own yawn from surfacing, glancing away through the stained glass window out into the darkness. There wasn’t another soul for miles, not a pinprick of light, nor a whisper on the wind. Just two old men, sat at the pulpit of an abandoned chapel, animal senses flaring in the darkness, like nothing else mattered.

“Remember when we could stay up all night, run around the Forest, then still deal with Double Charms first thing? And Prongs would go to extra Quidditch at lunch, and we’d still find the time to prank the Slytherins in the evening?” Sirius’ voice took on that wistful quality, a soft lilt that dropped him right back into childhood, grinning at Remus when he thought up the next biggest prank, catching him in the showers after Prongs and Wormtail had already left, claiming he didn’t need breakfast as long as he had his daily dose of Moony.

“You could’ve, Pads. I still needed a day or two in bed on the best days. You bloody lucky Animagi.”

“Yeah.” Sirius turned to press a kiss against Remus’ shoulder, the tender heat of it searing through his jumper. Remus thought that he would always be able to feel Sirius’ kisses, no matter how many jumpers he had on. Like the Princess and the Pea, Remus would be able to feel Sirius through miles of mattresses and pillows, flaming straight through to his skin.

Even after all these years, he could never resist Sirius Black. He thought it was hopeless as a teenager, all raging hormones, endlessly confused as to why they were pointing towards his best friend instead of that pretty Ravenclaw, Sirius always clever as the devil and twice as pretty. But it had only gotten worse the older they had got. That handsome smirk still tailored to his face, eyes crinkling at the corners whenever he said something far too brash and dirty at the dinner table and Remus flushed red like they were both still 19. Sirius was like a fine wine, ageing with more grace than should be afforded to a little berk like him, but he wore it proudly.

Of course, it always hung at the back of Remus’ throat that they were both ageing with dignity because their best friends didn’t have the opportunity.

Sirius, unfailingly, drew him out of the well of his melancholy with a well-placed barb. “You’ve always been a grandad at heart, Moons. You were eighty from the moment you were born.”

“Charming.” Remus let out a long breath against a flash of pain up his spine. Sirius felt it immediately, of course he did, always so in tune at moments like this, his canine senses honed.

“Alright?” Sirius slipped his hand into Remus’ and squeezed, hard enough to ground him back.

Remus just nodded, closed his eyes, and let his head sink back against the wood behind him.

Sirius kissed the bared lines of his throat, nipping softly above his Adam’s apple, tracing the tendon up to his jaw. “Love you, Rem.”

The breath immediately hitched in Remus’ throat, and his hand tightened around Sirius’ shoulders. “Godric, Padfoot. How do you still do that?”

Sirius pulled back with his trademark grin, bracing a hand at Remus’ thigh. “Because it’s me, baby.” His expression softened a little, Remus barely holding back a wince at the term of endearment, and he leant forward again to kiss his husband tenderly on the lips. Remus leant forward to meet him, the response ingrained in his cells at that point, like his core directive was always _Whenever possible, kiss Sirius Black. If not possible, think about kissing Sirius Black._ Sirius grinned again when he pulled back. “And because it’s you, Moons. It’s always been you, forever.”

Remus grinned and tugged Sirius back in for another kiss. Kisses were different these days, too. True, there was still the occasional moment of teenage desperation, usually after one too many firewhiskey’s, stumbling on the stairs because Sirius had attached himself firmly to Remus’ neck to try and create the constellation of his namesake entirely out of love bites. But more often than not, their lovemaking was slow and languid, always unhurried and incredibly tender. Remus knew Sirius’ body better than his own at this point, every little crease, the secret spots only he knew that made him quiver. Every beautiful inch of him. Remus could lose himself in Sirius, shivering in his arms.

Remus slowly pulled back as Sirius’ fingers slipped under the hem of his jumper. He gave him a wry smile. “The moon is in _minutes_ , Sirius. We do not have time to fuck.”

Sirius pouted his patented _oh, but Moony_ pout, and Remus rolled his eyes, not wanting to think how often that damn pout came close to actually working. “Please?”

“No. But you can help me with this fucking jumper. I actually like it, so the wolf can’t have it. And my shoulder’s been playing up.” Remus pushed gently at Sirius’ shoulder and Sirius shifted his weight back onto his heels, helping Remus strip.

Sirius pressed a kiss to the bite mark around his ribs once his husband lay naked beneath him. “I could never resist you, Moons. Not ever.”

“Well you’ll have to, it’s starting.” Remus gritted out. Of course, Sirius knew that without him having to say it, but it came out of his mouth anyway. Remus lifted a hand, lodging careful fingers into the hair at the nape of Sirius’ neck. Perhaps it was psychosomatic, but being in contact with him always seemed to lessen the pain of the transformation.

“Listen, Sirius.” Remus paused for a gasp of breath, searing his lungs. “If I don’t-”

“Remus, no.”

“No, Sirius, I’ve got to say it, okay. If I don’t- I love you, alright?”

“I know, you say it every time, Rem. It’s okay.” Sirius pressed a kiss to the worry line between Remus’ eyebrows. “I know.”

“What if I don’t say it, one time…”

“Then there will always be next time.” Sirius squeezed his hand, still on Remus’ thigh, the other gingerly pushing back the hair from his face.

Remus sighed, clenching his eyes shut. He knew that one day there wouldn’t be a next time. Sirius joked the two of them were going to live forever, powered purely by tea, Honeydukes Finest, witty banter, and occasionally, in his more lurid moments, spunk. But Remus knew that wasn’t the case, and it pained him to think of it. Because obviously he was going to go first, the lycanthropy catching up with his body eventually. He didn’t want to think about leaving Sirius behind - Merlin, he was nearly sixty and it was still hit and miss whether he could make toast on any given day.

Remus just shook his head. “Go on, then, Pads.” He closed his eyes against a wave of pain, tendons stretching and snapping, and felt Sirius shift under his palm. He tightened his fingers into the fur at the scruff of Padfoot’s neck and the dog turned to lick an affectionate stripe along his thigh. Remus somehow found it in him to laugh and shove lightly at the dog’s head - his husband was a pervert even when he was a canine apparently.

Sometimes, the transformation was so quick, Remus blinked and his brain was inside the wolf. But other times, it seemed to drag on and on, so much so that Remus was sure he would only have a moment of respite from the pain until he had to change back again. That night was one of those times. Perhaps it was because it was a super-blue-blood-wolf-eclipse-bloody-fucking-whatever-Moon, or perhaps it was just because, _Merlin_ , they were getting old, weren’t they?

Once the pain had subsided, Moony blinked and tilted his head to scent the air. No one within miles, no one but he and the black dog. Just the way he liked it. He nuzzled affectionately at the dog, who promptly licked his nose. Padfoot was showing signs of age now, grey around his muzzle, a little slower, a little easier to tire, but then, so was the wolf.

In another lifetime, Padfoot would’ve barked and rolled onto his back, coaxing Moony into play-fighting with him, before tearing off through the undergrowth with a woof of _keep up, Moony!_ Even in their thirties, reunited, Moony overjoyed at the reappearance of his pack-mate, they had spent the night of the moon running around, finding all manner of different beautiful places, almost disappointed when the moon finally dipped below the horizon.

But that wasn’t the case any longer, the both of them tired, trotting with creaky joints, grey muzzles and thinning fur. Instead, Padfoot burrowed into the nest of blankets at the pulpit, snuffling them into a pile with his nose. Moony trailed around the edges of the chapel, chasing the decades old scent of the last occupants, until Padfoot woofed and beckoned him back over. Nestled in the blankets, Moony curled around Padfoot, burying his nose in the black fur, distantly recognising the scent of rosemary shampoo.

Remus came back to his body, panting desperately against the pain. As always, until the end, Sirius was there, tenderly rubbing his back, murmuring softly. Sirius shifted closer and kissed the corner of his mouth, waiting there until Remus’ eyes fluttered open.

Remus was sure he would never ever tire of opening his eyes and seeing Sirius Black’s devastatingly handsome face staring back at him. The thought had first occurred to him after the first time they had slept together. The middle of the night, sixth year, all awkward fumbling, so scared to do it wrong, soon descending into laughter, teasing mercilessly until Remus had twisted his wrist just so and sent Sirius spiralling over the edge into ecstasy, Remus following him shortly after. They had fallen asleep after casting a quick cleaning spell, and Remus had stirred the next morning to the sight of Sirius sharing his pillow, mouth slightly open, eyelashes casting long shadows over his beautiful face. Even if James was bellowing about his missing Charms homework - hidden by Sirius the night before - and Peter was still snoring away in the corner like a herd of elephants, Remus had thought it was the most beautiful sight in the world. He would’ve moved heaven and earth in that moment to make sure he would always wake up next to Sirius Black.

Of course, it felt as if he had, all those years stretching between them. But it didn’t matter now. Everything paled into non-existence next to Sirius Black and the way he looked at Remus Lupin.

Sirius pressed another kiss to his lips, sure but gentle. “Love you, Moons.”

Remus grinned and gingerly lifted his hand, still shaking from the rearranging his body had shuddered through moments earlier, to touch the high point of Sirius cheek, brushing over the darkness beneath his eye. The sun filtered through the stained glass of the chapel, sending rainbow refractions of light skittering over them both.

One more down.

“Love you more, Pads.”


End file.
